


Letters Burn Ice

by metalpalace



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Epistolary, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalpalace/pseuds/metalpalace
Summary: She wrote to him, and she wrote often, sending more ravens than he’d seen a maester able to gather in his time as Lord Commander. They made him wonder how he lived a day without those gentle caresses. The careful pressure of ink on paper, so precise and ladylike, so – Sansa.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 33
Kudos: 107
Collections: JonsaWeek2019





	Letters Burn Ice

**Author's Note:**

> For the Day 1 prompt: Future

_ Dear Jon, _

_ I’m running out of things to say. Well, perhaps that's not quite true. _

_ I want you to know that I meant every word in King's Landing. Time had changed my heart. Your letters are my only company within these walls. I always hug them before I open them, but it can’t compare to the warmth of your embrace. _

_ Terribly masked mentions of you slip right past my lips. When someone mentions your name, my face lights up, I can’t help it. I feel like the little girl who always listened to stories of Prince Aemon. _

_ Maybe I’ll always be that little girl in your eyes – a sister – maybe that’s all I should remain. _

_ There’s nothing beautiful, nor romantic...only naive and shameful. And whether I admit it to myself or not – I still wait for you even though I know you’re not coming back. _

_ Please let me have this one time to say it. _

_ Come back to me, Jon. Come back. _

_ Yours faithfully, _

_ Sansa Stark _

* * *

If he had any tears left to shed, he’d let them fall on every new letter he received from Sansa. 

She wrote to him, and she wrote often, sending more ravens than he’d seen a maester able to gather in his time as Lord Commander. They made him wonder how he lived a day without those gentle caresses. The careful pressure of ink on paper, so precise and ladylike, so – _Sansa_.

For the briefest of moments – what once had been shame, became relief – only to have crumbled down, leaving a trail of guilt in its wake. 

_ Did I really think I could have it for once? _

Her name was an answer and a question, clawing at his brain.

Those same letters often angered him, and he knew better than to reply in such a state. He’d wait it out, trying to stop picturing Sansa’s figure – one of her hands inflicting the pain – the other soothing the wound. She knew nothing could hurt him as much as her plea for him to come home. Deep down he sensed it brought her no joy to do so, but the acknowledgment that she’d settle for him no matter what it took, only made him suffocate.

And so, most letters made him pity her so that he wouldn’t reach pitying himself yet. 

He’d laugh. He’d nod. He’d fall asleep with a letter still in his hand. Then, he’d burn them and watch the North outside stretching wide. 

But no matter what – he always wrote back.

_ Dearest Sansa, _

_ I hope you’ll be glad to hear that Ghost is alive and well. He even tried to make a dinner out of your raven. I understand that’s not what you care about at all, but I think he’s the only one here who understands how much this exchange pains me. _

_Every letter you accompany with a royal pardon ends up in a fire. It’s tempting to go back and pretend nothing has happened, but it had happened, Sansa._ _I’m at fault for indulging in this too much._

_ The thought of losing you tears me apart; I can’t imagine ending the one thing that’s keeping us connected. I know you’d resent me if I did, and it makes me all the more eager to write to you. _

_ But know the truth – you deserve an honorable man, not a kinslayer. _

_ I want nothing more than to be the last to fall asleep and the first to wake up with you in my arms. _

_ If I could share all of me, it would be with you, but I don’t feel there’s much left. I think I died then and never returned the same. _

_ The little life I got back was the one your presence breathed into me, making it its best and most painful part. _

_ Now, the only way I know there’s some of me still in there is my refusal to ruin you; please don’t expect that of me. _

_ All my love, _

_ Jon Snow _

* * *

For so long, she had imagined North’s autonomy would severe her ties with respected people of the Six Kingdoms, that somehow they’d all rebel against their ruler and her and tear them up. That all this seemed so great from the outside and that peace wouldn’t last long before she’d be glad she secured Bran a chamber.

_ There’s one for Arya too, and Jon... _

“I apologize if I’m meddling where I shouldn’t, Your Grace, but you’re like a daughter to me, and I think a bit of rest would do you good now.” 

Lord Royce’s voice was coming somewhere from afar as if he’d just announced his visit from Vale.

“You want me to be happy, Lord Royce? Bring snow”, she paused to soothe the sharpness of her voice then sighed. “ It’s been so warm lately, I feel my head’s going to explode.”

“You must allow yourself to rest. We’d be honored if you’d visit the Vale again and make some good memories this time, surely even new acquaintanceships. Ned spent many years there, I enjoyed hunting with him. Not every man is terrible in this terrible world, your father’s proof that it’s true.”

She felt a rise in her, schooled into another defeated breath. 

“Lord Royce, thank you for your kind invitation - I’m forever indebted by you for helping Jon and me win our home back - but the question of marriage is not a matter requiring your concern, as I am not your Queen.” and after a heartbeat “I’ll be marrying a Northmen. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

In truth, Winterfell has never felt colder since her family had gone their separate ways. Her new duty as Queen of an independent kingdom presented itself more difficult than when she ruled in Jon’s stead. During his absence, no one found time to care for who she should marry. Admittedly, many Lords have looked for the opportunity to win her title, but with everything that had been going on, the matter got delayed.

She knows she’s young, a whole life ahead of her, though numbers are hardly something she can hide behind forever. There were more and more suitors offering themselves, praying they’ll be the one she chooses. One day, the voices will grow too loud, and she’ll have to present an heir. 

Perhaps her biggest wish in life was having children – now she was scared to find out if carrying a child was still a possibility.

_ What if they spread rumors? _

_ What if they knew of all the torturous ways of Ramsey Bolton? _

_ If they had known, they would have come and saved me. _

“I’m sorry my Lord, I know you mean well. Please, excuse me.”

Soon, she’ll have to join the guests for a feast, and a cup of wine beforehand couldn’t spoil it. Locking herself in her solar, she opened the letter that came that morning and began writing.

_ Dear Jon, _

_ I can’t see my life here ever being a happy one, and for that part, I can’t put any more blame on you; you do that well enough on your own. I’ll be honest with you. _

_ I hate that you think you have to go through this. You’re serving a sentence you absolutely shouldn’t be. If you hadn’t, someone would’ve done the same when the damage became even more horrifying. You saved so many lives. I don’t want to live in a world where men like that get punished. _

_ My Royal pardon for your ‘crime’ is always there, but feel free to spark a fire with it, and keep yourself warm. I know I’d be far better at it. _

_ You wouldn’t ruin me, don’t think I regret a single moment by your side. _

_ We’d heal. Together, we’d heal. _

_ I love you, I miss you, _

_ Sansa _

* * *

Days seemed to drag on forever, stuck to each other and impossible to differentiate. This was a life Jon once may have even longed for. Never had he expected to have someone waiting on him, _longing_ _for him_. A bitter smile tugged on his lips. 

_ He certainly hadn’t imagined many things that had happened in his life. _

The Wildlings moved beyond the Wall as soon as he joined them. Some of the ill ones had to stay behind and he was grateful to them for saving him his letters. He made monthly trips to Castle Black to collect them. 

Every time he came back, there was less and less of the living. They were mostly elders, but there were plenty of those severely injured in the fight against the dead, their life hanging by a thread. The scene brought back the worst of memories. It made him want to ride as far up North as he could. He’d run a mile more for every Wildling that died south of The Wall.

When he arrived at the gates, he saw an elderly woman’s shadow moving inside the castle. No one made a move to acknowledge him. Everything was silent. He was certain that the boy who greeted him last time, wasn’t with them anymore. Jon had promised him he could come with him when he got strong again. He couldn't dare to ask about it.

A man came up to him, the letter shaking in his hand. Jon stepped closer, his face muscles twitching into an awful attempt of a smile, another thing he hadn’t unlearned from his time at Dragonstone.

When he reached out to take it, he refused to let go. 

“You’ll never be one of us if you keep holding on to that life.”, his gravelly voice warned that he was not long for this world.

Jon locked eyes with his bloodshot ones, right before the man bent over coughing.

“Thank you, for keeping it for me.” 

With that, Jon rushed into the solar, away from the eyes in the common hall.

Who was he trying to deceive? He was so far from home up here. Reading Sansa’s letter only made it sound more like the truth. They were both breaking, and Jon knew it in the ink sealed words, the fiery hair dancing behind his eyelids like morning light.

It almost felt as if they’ve always been this way with each other. The desperation and longing have become everpresent figures atop their defenses.

He knew that people like him should be forgotten. That she too should try to forget, or at least bury him deep enough to leave enough place for another.

Tomorrow he’ll ride further North than he’s ever been, to join the others.

_ Dear Sansa, _

_ Have you ever thought of how cruel the world is, the gods are? I’ve become as cruel as them. I’m writing you this, knowing full well you’ll latch onto every word, read it over and over and all I’ll say is that you shouldn’t. _

_ After all this time you still think I’m worth some honor for what I’ve done. It makes no sense in my head. No one like you has looked at me that way. _

_ I guess that’s love. It blinds even the smartest and kindest of us._

_ I do not doubt that you’ll find a good husband among the men I’m sure are offering themselves to you. Don’t worry about a failed ruler. _

_ Please take care, _

_ Jon _

* * *

The wood of the armrest splintered beneath her fingertips, as Sansa tried suppressing the urge to throw something at the wall. Raising a hand to do so felt like a challenge, so she settled for ruining her father’s old chair. There was no one to scold her for it, though, when she closed her eyes, she imagined her mother’s stern look. She wished that the image hadn't become such a blur over the years.

Opening up this way, even to Jon, seemed frightening, but she was most afraid of demanding anything of him. These past few letters were nothing but brave on her part, and Jon’s had been - well - nothing but Jon.

How dare he think that she could ever hate him; she could ever forget him? If Sansa were to shake him and tell him he’s dense, she knew he wouldn’t even try to argue.

She was exasperated by his response.

_ Dear Jon, _

_ Am I wrong to assume that you have no intention of marrying me? You know that I'm more than capable of ruling on my own, but to what end? Would you like me to give away our kingdom to some stranger? Jon, the only way I could fit in another's arms is as a pawn. _

_ Father wanted me to marry someone brave, gentle and strong and I'm tired of pretending you wouldn't have his blessings. _

_ A crown is a burden like no other, I should understand, but you wouldn't be the only one wearing it. Is there someone up there keeping you company? _

_ Sansa _

* * *

Tormund hasn't left his side. It was unnerving. This way he could hear the steps behind him crushing the unbroken snow whenever he moved. They weren't the silent stride of his direwolf in front of them, but ones that added weight to his decision. He wanted his last moments with his friend to not feel so final.

Then again, not telling him would've been a mistake. He hadn't known that Tormund had planned on following him this far anyway, just that he'll miss the sound once he stops.

Days later, they arrived at Castle Black, exhausted and freezing.

He hazily remembered Free Folk taking them in. They sat in silence, facing the fire with cups of ale in hand. Jon wanted to tell him about the letter he’s received from Sansa. How silly her fear was. In his heart, there was only her. Without writing a reply, he retired to bed.

_ He’ll be home soon enough to show her which woman he returned to every night._

That evening, he dreamed of melting snow, flowers, fields...

*

In the morning Jon was standing with Tormund in the courtyard.

“There won’t be any use waiting for you here, once your sister-wife gets her hands on you.”

Jon chuckled. “Aye, that’s assuming she won’t kick me out of the kingdom when I show up unannounced.”

“That’s what you’ve chosen to deal with, King in the North.” Tormund embraced him with his familiar bone-crushing hug. “I hope I never see you running back to us.”

“If I ruin this, I won’t let you take me in.”

Tormund pulls away, an earnest look on his face. 

“Keep her happy, Jon. Have a family. A real family. The Free Folk won’t forget you.”

“Nor I you.”

With one last look over his shoulder, Jon mounted the horse and rode off.

* * *

_ Jon, _

_ I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said any of it. _

_ You have every right to be angry at me, but it's been months since your last reply and I'm sick with worry. _

_ Whatever we are, it doesn't matter, I just need to know that you're unharmed. Please, spare just one word to let me know that you're alright. _

_ Love, _

_ Sansa _

Placing the quill back on the desk, Sansa decided to head outside. It would've been a beautiful morning had she not decided to spend it grieving. 

_ It was too bright. Couldn't anybody notice? _

Her thoughts were flooded with memories of her loved ones. She found strength in imagining Mother and Father watching her deal with matters of The North. _They would be so proud. Robb would be proud of her too._

Arya and Bran have both sent her a scroll asking about her health, something that felt like unusual courtesy between siblings, but nothing Sansa hadn't expected. She could only go so far with prying into their lives without disclosing anything about her own. 

And Jon… She was worried that it was the end of their chapter. Was he keeping in contact with the rest? Stepping over the line was easy when you never knew where it was, to begin with. It's been a year since he declared his love on those docks. That was the most wonderful and devastating moment in her entire existence. 

She couldn't believe such contradictions existed. How she didn't scream at the guards for taking him away, how she didn’t let herself lose her composure even when her family was falling apart again.

In her eyes, everything was crumbling and if there'd been another way, she would've had them stay in Winterfell for as long as they could. It would be unfair to keep them all chained, and if Jon found someone who makes him happy, she should be too. If only he trusted her enough to tell her.

She walked into the goodswood, praying to find some solace. It’s where she felt closer to her family now. Sansa shuddered at the thought of going down to the crypts after what had happened. She had the new statues made, but the rest of the repairs were overseen by a steward. She’ll return there someday - they’ll be carrying her bones down the winding stairs.

The ice-cold pond by the heart tree was hurting her fingers, as she used them to distort her reflection.

She's already weeping when Ghost brushes his head against her skirts. The touch startles her, and she looks up to find Jon watching them.

_ His snow damped hair. _ That’s the first thing she noticed on him. A year of back and forth conversation and he couldn’t have mentioned that he’s had no intention of cutting it since she’d helped him to it. It was let loose, like the last time she saw him on the docks of King’s Landing.

The black of his cloak, the paleness of his features, it all tried to sober her up, but her feet were stubbornly unable to move. 

She must’ve dreamt it all, under a high fever. 

“I thought you learned to let me in on your plans.”

Those grey eyes were so fearful, yet loving, she knew she couldn’t have met them before.

“I thought you missed me too.”

They were new, and for her – they’ve made her cross the distance separating them.

Once again, she was in his arms, and Jon was holding her as if she might disappear any moment now. 

“I’m so sorry, Sansa I- “

“I don’t want to hear that, say the other thing.”

Jon pulled back to look at her, his brows knitting in confusion for just a moment, before Sansa’s arms found their way around his neck and she was kissing him breathless.

His eyes turned wild and a first genuine smile in what seemed like forever was forming on both of their faces.

“It’s not the other thing, it’s why I came.”

Sansa playfully rolled her eyes, meanwhile, she felt a hand coming up to cup face.

She leaned into the touch and covered Jon’s hand with her own, gazing at him with utter adoration.

It seemed like the gesture encouraged him. He looked up at the heart tree before speaking.

“I couldn’t promise you my return, even as I hoped you would keep asking for it. I denied both of us happiness, ‘cause I deemed myself unworthy of your affection. But now that you stand in front of me, I can’t let it go on, Sansa. I can’t allow myself to be the reason for your misery.”

Tears were forming in her eyes again, but these carried hope.

“For all that has happened, for all that we’ve lost, I want us to have this.”

This was something he desperately wanted her to hear, needed her to hear.

His voice was just above a whisper, but it was strong enough to warm her soul completely. Something all the letters have tried.

“_I love you, Sansa_.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time participating, I hope you liked it!  
English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.


End file.
